What's a Good Name For a Cockroach?
by S-Boogie
Summary: These are some LotF one-shots that I've decided to write. They range from creepy to sad to flat out weird. Some are comical and lighthearted as well. I try to include as many characters that I can and will even dedicate entire chapters to minor characters. Enjoy! (The rating might change later on.)
1. Siege By Squirrels

**Disclaimer: **Lord of the Flies is rightfully owned by William Golding and The Berkley Publishing Group.

I darted through the forest this way and that, not really sure where to go. I didn't even think that we'd find any of them on the island, let alone an entire swarm of them. I let out a bloodcurdling shriek as one of them bit me on the back of my ankle.

"Yowch!" I hollered.

I tried my best to outrun them but slowed to a stop once I felt something wet on the bottoms of my feet. I'd forgotten the kind-of-important fact that I was stranded on an island and unless I wanted to drown, I'd better stay on land. I wondered for a split second as to which one would be worse, drowning or death by pissed off squirrels. I made a sharp turn to my left as the wave of squirrels tried to swerve so as to not hit the water.

"Somebody help me!"

"What happened this time?" an angry voice shouted from a distance. Judging by the vibrant red hair, it was none other than Jack Merridew.

"They're gonna eat me!" Jack's eyes went wide.

"Dammit, Maurice!" He vanished behind the rocks and pretty soon him (along with several others) emerged and made a run for it.

I desperately tried to pick up the pace and continued to shout for the others to wait up for me. I spotted Roger's dark hair flopping around and once I got close enough I reached for it. I caught a few small tangles but he managed to escape before I could get a good grip. I sped up to my maximum speed and groped for someone else nearby. I found a tuft of hair and went for it, ultimately sending both of us toppling to the ground. I heard the squirrels getting closer and yanked the kid up into the forest. The herd (Is that what you call a group of batty squirrels?) bypassed us now that they had a larger target to chase. The boy that I'd pulled out of the group began whimpering. I assumed that it was a littlun. I bent down to ask who it was.

"P-Percival Wemys Madison…"

_Oh, great, _I groaned. He must've heard me because he started crying again.

"Calm down," I said a little too harshly. This, of course, had little to no effect. I tousled his hair and he simmered down a bit.

"Where's everybody else?" he choked out.

"Probably still running from the squirrels," I said. "Looks like we'll be stuck here for a while until it's over."

"What if it's never over?" Percival wailed.

"It will be," I reassured him, "I know it will."

The two of us hid there for a while (a few hours) before I heaved myself into a squat to see if the coast was clear. There were no killer squirrels in sight so I placed a hand on Percival's shoulder and urged him to follow me. He clung to me for the duration of our trek and every time he'd hear the slightest rustle he'd stiffen and I practically had to drag him for half of the hike. I gritted my teeth every time I'd feel a warm wet spot on my thigh.

"Well," I stated once we'd reached the top of the mountain, "let's see what's going on from up here."

I surveyed the island from the mountaintop with Percival clinging to me in an annoying fashion. Why did I have to grab a littlun? Then again, why did I have to grab anybody? I could've just dove into the bushes by myself and let the squirrels chase everybody else. I nearly smacked myself for not hiding alone.

I felt something tug at my shorts. Percival looked up at me with fear in his eyes. I stared at him for a minute before telling him that I hadn't spotted any noticeable signs of life below. He whimpered again. I moaned but wrapped my arm around him protectively to settle him down.

A few moments passed when an eerie shadow loomed over the platform that we stood on. I slowly craned my head upward to see a fluffy tsunami about to devour us whole. I screamed and-

"Maurice," a voice said, "wake up."

I awoke with a start and when I snapped my head up I felt the top of it collide with something. I heard an "Ouch!" and rubbed my head. I blushed sheepishly once I realized who it was.

"Sorry, Jack."

"What were you dreaming about?" he snapped. He pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the blood flow.

"Squirrels," I murmured. Unfortunately, he heard me anyway.

"Squirrels?" He snickered. "You're afraid of squirrels?"

"No."

"I don't believe you."

"You'd be worried too if you dreamt what I did."

"So you are afraid of squirrels." An evil smirk spread across Jack's face as he leaned back. His nose hadn't completely stopped bleeding so he looked a little ridiculous.

We stared at each other for a while before Jack spotted a dark mass float ashore. We raced down to see what it was and once Jack picked it up and showed me, I could feel the color drain out of my face. What he held gingerly by the tail was the very same animal that I'd just had a nightmare about.

**A/N: I know that this is a weird one to start with but I like to surprise people. I got the idea for this one while I was out walking with my parents and we were comparing the size of squirrels in a cemetery to the ones in our backyard which led to us coming up with crazy titles about squirrels. Thus, this chapter was born. I might post another one-shot either later on today or sometime tomorrow. No promises. Anyway, thanks for reading!**


	2. Worries and Friendship

**Disclaimer: **Lord of the Flies is rightfully owned by William Golding and The Berkley Publishing Group.

Ralph sat perched on a log, staring off into the horizon. He wondered how long it had been since they'd crashed on the island. He glanced toward the littluns playing in the sand and wondered if they even cared about going home. He sighed, then continued staring at the sky. He closed his eyes for a while until he heard something plop down next to him.

"How are things down here?" Jack asked, panting.

"Not too well," Ralph replied. "How did your hunt go? Did you manage to catch anything?"

"No," Jack sighed, "I let the others go early again."

"I can see that," Ralph said. "They've been here for a few hours at least."

"Sorry."

"Look," Ralph said, his piercing gaze meeting Jack's eyes, "don't overdo it, okay? I know that you're desperate to catch a pig, but don't spend hours in the woods while the other hunters come down to the beach to play and goof off. If you intend to send them down, you might as well come too. They might help out with the shelters if there are two of us in control instead of swimming and teasing the littluns."

Jack thought for a minute. "You're right," he concluded. "Next time I'll come down with them and we'll work on the shelters together."

"Are you sure?" Ralph looked skeptical.

"Of course!" Jack beamed. "I'll make sure to come with them next time, then we can work on the shelters together."

Ralph and Simon worked well into the afternoon the next day on the shelters. Simon started to get overheated so Ralph suggested that they take a break.

While they lay in the shade of a nearby tree, several of the hunters came pouring out of the forest. They discarded their spears and clothing (save for their underwear) and leapt into the water. Ralph craned his head and searched for Jack, hoping that he was among the mass of bodies splashing around in the water.

"He's not with them," Simon whispered.

Ralph sighed. "He told me that he'd come back with them this time and help us with the shelters."

"You could call an assembly," Simon suggested.

"What good would that do? They'd just run off again after five minutes. I need him here to help me maintain order. I can't do everything by myself."

After about ten minutes of rest, Ralph helped Simon up and they continued working on the shelters. They were halfway through their fourth shelter when Ralph spotted a mop of red hair emerge from the forest. He abandoned Simon and the shelter and darted toward Jack.

"Where have you been?" he questioned.

"Hunting," Jack replied.

"You promised to be back with the others this time." Ralph glared at the taller boy.

"Sorry," Jack said, "I forgot." He saw the look on Ralph's face and quickly tried to redeem himself. "I'll come back with them tomorrow. I promise."

"Really?" The blonde boy stared at Jack with doubt in his eyes.

"Really," Jack said, "I mean it."

Without another word, Ralph swiveled around and trotted back to Simon. They worked for a little while longer before Ralph decided to call it good for the day. He told Simon to go relax and eat somewhere.

"Um," Simon began, "is it alright if I eat with you?" His voice faded throughout the sentence, causing Ralph to ask him to repeat himself.

"Can I eat with you?" Simon ducked his head down in embarrassment.

Ralph stared at him in confusion for a bit before speaking. "Sure, I don't see why not. Come on, let's go get some fruit."

The two traveled a little way through the forest before settling on a tree with large, ripe, pink fruit. They climbed the tree and helped themselves to some fruit before dropping it to the ground, as it had a tough rind along the outside. They giggled when they watched it crack open on the hard earth. Ralph helped Simon down and they feasted on the tart fruit.

"I thought it would be sweet." Ralph cringed.

"That makes two of us," Simon seconded.

Simon didn't want to let the food go to waste, so they finished it anyway (Ralph grudgingly obliged). They decided to wander through the forest for a bit before heading back to their crazy camp. They held a tree-climbing contest (Ralph won) and an insect hunt (Simon found the most). The two boys laughed and shared stories until the sun began to set.

"You know," Ralph said, "everyone calls you batty, but you're not."

"You don't think so?" The small boy looked up at his new friend.

Ralph shook his head. "Nope. I think you're a good person."

This caused Simon to blush out of spite. "I don't know." He lowered his head. "I don't think I'm good. I just like to get things done."

"That's what makes you good." Ralph smiled. "You help out whoever you can. While you see it as 'getting things done,' I see it as working for others out of the goodness in your heart."

Simon gaped at the blonde boy. He really didn't know how to respond to that, especially when he had no idea that Ralph could say something so philosophical. Neither of them said another word as they made their way back to camp.

"Where were you?" Jack asked as the two boys emerged from the forest.

"We just took a break from working all day," Ralph replied. Simon hid behind him.

"Well," Jack said, "the littluns are getting put to bed. Everything's under control."

"Good," Ralph replied.

He walked past the redhead with Simon on his heels. He decided that Jack had redeemed himself somewhat with demonstrating good leadership skills (for once) and making sure that everyone was taken care of. Ralph huddled in a shelter with Simon snuggled beside him. Grateful for the warmth, Ralph scooted closer to the smaller boy, finally free of worry for one night.

**A/N: I have a big story coming up soon that does include an OC but will most likely be the only one that does (unless I decide to add other chapters in that setting if people like it). Anyway, I've got a general idea for it and will begin actually writing it soon. I really enjoyed writing this one and it ended up being longer than I'd anticipated. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Logic

**Disclaimer: **Lord of the Flies is rightfully owned by William Golding and The Berkley Publishing Group.

**A/N: Before you indulge in this piece I should warn you that it is written in second person. I've made previous attempts at writing in second person but have never been satisfied with any of them. This one, however, I am pretty satisfied with and hopefully it isn't another failed attempt. I wanted to try out this new writing style and anyone who wants to pursue it should be warned that yes, it is difficult to pull off. I apologize for not updating in a while but hopefully this is worth it. Enjoy!**

"We should divide up into small groups," I said, "then maybe we can get things done a little faster instead of everyone focusing on one thing." I looked over at you, who sat next to me. "Are you even listening?"

"What?" Your once passive blue eyes lit up with attentiveness as your head swiveled in my direction. I sighed.

"I was saying," I repeated, "I think that we should split up into smaller groups to get more things done. We can have some people work on the shelters, some could watch the fire, and others could look for food."

"I guess." You turned your head down and stared at your filthy feet for what seemed like forever before you finally got up and blew the conch shell, summoning an assembly.

"Alright, there are going to be some changes around here," you began. "From now on we're going to do things a little differently. We should split up into separate groups and do different things that help the group, such as collecting food, water, keeping the fire going, and building shelters. We need to make sure that we have all of the supplies that we need and some extra in case of an emergency."

"What about my hunters?" He shot up from his seat on a nearby log with a look of defiance on his face, as if he would have to subject himself to building shelters (which was apparently farbeneath him). I rolled my eyes when he opened his mouth again.

"We should be able to continue hunting without bothering with the shelters." Then, as if to redeem himself a little, he added, "for the most part."

"You'll still go about your usual activities," you paused, "however, when you've finished, I'd appreciate it if you would help us out once you return."

"Of course." With that, he took his seat.

Once the assembly was over, I found you along the shoreline and sat next to you.

"Why didn't you call him out?" I asked.

"Call him out on what?" You answered without looking at me.

"He spoke out of turn," I said. "He didn't have the conch. You did."

"I guess not," you replied.

"Is something wrong?" I asked. "Don't tell me that you've given up."

"Ha." You held a hand over your eyes, tilted your head back, and laughed. I stared at you, utterly confused. Once you calmed down, you ran your hand through your hair, getting it caught in the many tangles.

"I don't see what's so funny about this." I pushed my glasses up my nose and studied your face, which shocked me.

You had bags under your eyes and looked about ten years older than you actually were. I could see some wrinkles by your lips begin to form from stress. Your shoulders slumped and you lacked the muscle that you once had. Your unkempt hair hung past your shoulders and your bangs drooped to about halfway over the bridge of your nose. What scared me the most were your eyes. The light that once glowed in them was nearly depleted and almost lifeless. I'd noticed them dulling slightly before, but at that moment I saw just how exhausted you were and it seemed as though you didn't care anymore. You looked like you wanted to give up and die.

"Ralph," I murmured. Your nearly lifeless blue eyes found my face and you stared at me blankly.

"Ralph, you can't just quit like that. I know that you're tired and want to go home. Believe me, we all do." I gulped. "You can't give up on us! Who'll lead us? Jack? If that were to happen, I'd lose my marbles. We need you as a leader. What are grownups going to think when they find us as a group of starving, bloodthirsty savages? You can't let that happen. _We _can't let that happen. I'm on your side until the very end. You can count on that."

Before I could step back in shock at what I'd just said, your lips curved up into a smile for the first time in weeks. I stared at you for several seconds before you pushed your hair out of your eyes, and I noticed some of that old fire that I missed had returned.

"Thank you, Piggy." You chuckled. "I needed that."


	4. Crazy Redhead Number Two

**Disclaimer: **Lord of the Flies is rightfully owned by William Golding and The Berkley Publishing Group.

**A/N: Before proceeding, this is the story with my OC in it. It will probably be the only one (unless there are requests that I add a second part to it). This one's by far one of my longer ones, so hopefully it makes up for the short one-shots that I've been putting up. Enjoy!**

"Gareth!"

I whipped my head around in the direction of the voice that summoned me. I spotted a boy with blonde hair and eyes as deep as the ocean (and swam like them too) bounding toward me with a toothy grin glued to his face. I couldn't help but return it. I ran up to him and together we made it back to the beach where he'd call an assembly.

There were many other boys on the island with us. If I had to choose my least favorite out of all of them, it would probably be Roger. I'm not saying that I dislike him, per se, but rather he sort of creeps me out to an extent. It's strange because he intrigues me as much as he repels me.

Annoyingly enough, I get confused with Jack a lot. I'm not as lanky as he is by a long shot, but my hair is only a shade darker than his. While his is fiery red mine's more of an orange-ish color and it's far more curlier than his is. I get irritated when people compare the two us by looks, especially when we're nothing alike. I'm much more reserved and don't really like to lead/dominate people.

"I've called you here today because we're continuing to run off and mess around when there's work to be done," Ralph said. "We need to work on building the shelters and making sure that we aren't relieving ourselves anywhere we feel like." He stopped to point toward some jagged rocks by the water's edge. "That's the lavatory because the ocean cleans it up afterwards when the tide comes in."

Jack took the conch.

"Ralph's right," he said. "We need to make sure that we aren't slacking off now." He glanced at Ralph. "As for my hunters, we haven't managed to catch a pig yet, but we've come close. I promise you that we'll have one soon." He was about to hand the conch back to Ralph before remembering something.

"Oh," he added, "the beast won't harm you at all. Not with me and my hunters around."

With that, he handed the conch back to Ralph and took his seat. I sat next to Piggy and I caught him rolling his eyes. I wanted to roll mine, too, but I was afraid that Jack would spot me and make me an object of ridicule. Piggy was definitely a lot braver than I was.

After Ralph dismissed us the littluns immediately ran off to play in the ocean. Shocker. I met up with Ralph and Simon to work on the shelters. I could tell that Ralph was exhausted and didn't blame him. I tried to cheer him up.

"We're already on our fourth shelter. That's something to be proud of," I reassured him.

"We'd have a lot more if the others would pitch in," my friend sighed.

"I know."

"Gareth?"

"Yeah?"

"Will we ever get rescued?" I paused for a minute, staring at him.

"What, you don't think that we'll ever make it off of this island?" I asked him.

"I'm just saying that it's a possibility." He turned back to the half-built shelter. "It doesn't mean that we won't get rescued. We probably will at some point."

"You don't sound very confident," I said.

When he didn't respond I decided to drop the subject and continue on with working on the shelter.

Night had fallen and the three of us had three-fourths of the shelter built. We collapsed in the first shelter that we'd built and chatted for a while. Even Simon talked quite a bit.

"What do you guys think is going to happen on this island?" I asked. "Do you think that we could have some adventures instead of just working all the time?"

"Well," Simon began, "maybe something exciting will happen, maybe something dreadful will happen. We might do really well and form a village or something. It's hard to say."

"Simon, this is your opinion," I reminded him. "There's no right or wrong answer for an opinion."

"Oh."

"With the way things are going now," Ralph added, "it looks like we might fall apart."

Silence.

"Let's talk about something else," I suggested.

"Like what?" Ralph asked.

"Rainbows?" I offered. This got a laugh out of the other two. Simon doubled over; clutching his stomach while his face turned a deep shade of red from laughing so hard.

I awoke the morning to a high-pitched squealing noise coming from outside of the shelter. I darted out onto the beach to see what had happened when I got whacked in the face with a wooden spear. I staggered backwards and my vision blurred for a bit before I recognized the figure before me.

Roger.

He reared back and aimed for my chest when I dodged to the side, barely avoiding the blow. I was about to question him when he jabbed at me again. This time I caught the spear and tried to yank it out of his grip. He was surprisingly strong for a scrawny guy. However, I managed to come out on top this time. I wrenched the spear from his hand (leaving him with a few splinters in the process) and leapt backward out of his reach. It was then that I realized that nobody else was around.

"Alright, spill," I threatened. "What's going on around here? Where is everybody and why did I hear a scream earlier? Where's Ralph? And Simon?"

"Hmph," he scoffed, "like I have to answer to you." I aimed the sharp end of the spear at his head to emphasize who the boss was in this scenario.

"You better answer me," I growled, "or else."

"Or else what?" He shot me a challenging glare.

"You know exactly what'll happen if you don't answer my questions."

Seeing as I still got no response from the smaller boy, I drew the spear back and cut him on the cheek. I felt a little sick at what I'd just done but felt as though it was necessary to show him that I wasn't kidding around. He licked the blood that trickled into his mouth.

"Is that the best you've got?" He continued to taunt me until he received a cut on his upper arm.

"Answer my questions!" I shouted.

He stared at me with narrowed eyes until I smacked him with the back end of my spear on his nose, causing blood to gush out. I have to admit that it felt pretty good being able to take my anger out on someone. At least, it did at the time. He still didn't answer any of my questions and I got so aggravated that I continued to hit him. I struck him over the head, I created several more cuts along his limbs, and I gave him a black eye.

"I'm not telling you anything," Roger said in a low voice.

"You did something," I said. "I know you did."

"Why do you think that I did something?"

"Because you love to torture things, that's why," I stated.

"And that automatically means that I did it," he replied.

"Well, you did come charging after me with your spear and you tried to kill me just now, so, yeah."

"I didn't do anything," he insisted.

"Then where are the others?" I repeated.

"How should I know?"

I groaned. "Because you were awake when they left."

"How do you know that I was awake when they headed out?"

"Just tell me where they are!"

"No," he said firmly.

I got so fed up with him that I drove my spear into the left side of his stomach and twisted it. He shrieked at first and then moaned in agony. I continued to twist until he finally gave in to the pain and choked out a word. I stopped for a moment.

"What?" I asked.

"Gone," he coughed.

"What do you mean, 'gone?'"

"I mean gone," he said between gasps. "I don't know where."

I stopped torturing him and held the spear back. He laid on the sand, clutching his stomach and clenching his teeth. What if they'd gotten saved and left me here with Roger, of all people? What if Ralph got killed and Jack took over and they all ran to the other side of the island? Numerous _what ifs _swam through my head until I heard a rustling sound emitting from the forest. I familiar fair haired boy emerged, carrying an armful of fruit.

"Hullo, Gareth," he greeted.

He continued to walk toward me when he noticed the bloodied spear that I was bearing and Roger collapsed on the sand. His eyes went wide when he saw the sand getting darker from underneath Roger. I quickly dropped the spear and tried to explain myself, but I wasn't getting very far with my hands covered in Roger's blood.

"What happened?" Ralph abandoned the fruit and dropped to his knees by Roger's side.

"He attacked me," I explained. "I defended myself."

Ralph glanced from Roger to me, as if comparing the severity of the wounds.

"It looks like you did a little more than defend yourself," he concluded.

"I thought that you guys got rescued and left me behind," I said, my face falling.

"Why would we leave you behind?" Ralph asked.

"I don't know," I said, "I panicked. Roger wouldn't answer my questions and kept mocking me, so I lost it."

"I see."

With that, Ralph gestured to me to help him with Roger and we carried him (more like dragged) as gently as we could back to one of the shelters.

While we treated Roger's wounds, I begged. "Please don't tell the others."

"Don't worry, I won't," Ralph promised. I sighed with relief.

"Although," he began, "I can't promise that Roger won't say anything once he gets better."

I shivered, afraid that not only might Roger tell Jack, he might try to get revenge on me, too. I thought of a bunch of different scenarios, hoping that none of them would come true.


	5. Stick Your Head in the Microwave

**Disclaimer: **Lord of the Flies is rightfully owned by William Golding and The Berkley Publishing Group.

**A/N: Before I begin, this story does have a history lesson that goes along with it, but I have it written at the end because it'll give the story away otherwise. The title is a line in a Weird Al Yankovic song that's called "Dare to Be Stupid" and I find it pretty hilarious. The title itself doesn't really have anything to do with the actual story (especially since microwaves came out about a decade after the original story is set) and I wanted to make it somewhat random. Anyway, enjoy the story!**

Jack walked briskly to the choir room. He didn't want to be late for practice, and punctuality was one of his stronger areas. He made it a minute before the bell rang and took his place with the rest of the choir.

He noticed that something was a little off that day. Roger sang with extra confidence and his pupils seemed a little wider than they usually were. Jack thought this strange, coming from the usually withdrawn boy. The redheaded leader decided to discuss Roger's odd behavior after rehearsal.

Practice went by much smoother than it usually did, which was a bonus in Jack's mind. He still felt a little uneasy with Roger being more outgoing. He wanted the younger boy to get more accustomed to spending time with others and interacting, but it was a huge leap from the usual. The previous day he avoided everybody, but this time out he'd actually held a conversation with Maurice at the end of practice. Jack caught Roger striding out of the classroom with better posture and somewhat of a spring in his step.

"Hey, Roger," Jack called. The dark haired boy swiveled around and cracked a small smile.

"Hullo, Jack," he replied.

"Um, is it alright if I can speak with you?" Jack asked shyly.

"Of course," Roger responded. "When?"

"Uh, now?"

"Is something wrong?" It was Roger's turn to ask.

"No," Jack said. "What gave you that idea?"

"You usually order us to speak with you," Roger stated. "It's just weird that you're asking me to talk all of a sudden."

"I guess." Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "Can we go outside?"

Roger shrugged. "Sure."

The two of them strolled in the great outdoors for a bit while they discussed Roger's behavior. As soon as they got outside, Roger squinted.

"It's bright." He rubbed his eyes.

"It's not nearly as bright as it was yesterday," Jack said. "It's overcast."

"Really?" Roger held a hand over his eyes. "It seems a lot brighter today."

He turned to his leader. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Um."

Jack thought for a minute, trying to figure out a way to properly word his question. He could just ask Roger straight out and go for the blunt approach. Somehow, he didn't think that that would end very well, especially when he was thinking of saying something to the effect of "So, what are you on? Prescriptions?" There was also the sneaky approach with him asking several questions that hinted at his desired overall answer and dragging it out into a long and boring conversation with possible skepticism coming from his subject. His thoughts were interrupted by an exasperated sigh emitting from Roger.

"Will you spit it out already?" Roger groaned.

"Sorry," Jack murmured, "I don't really know how to ask you this, that's all."

"Ask me what?" Roger nearly spat in his face by accident.

"Have you been eating or drinking anything that you're not supposed to?" Jack asked. Blunt approach it is, then.

"What do you mean?" Roger gave his leader a look of puzzlement.

"Have you been drinking or something?"

"What?" Roger stared at Jack in disbelief. His leader actually thought that he was on alcohol?

"How about this?" Jack persisted. "Have you tried anything new lately?"

"Well," Roger thought aloud, "I have been drinking Coca-Cola. It tastes really good." He paused. "That's about it. I haven't been taking any pills or anything like that."

"Coca-Cola?" It was Jack's turn to be confused. "Hasn't that been around for a while?"

"Yes," Roger answered, "and it doesn't taste that bad. Here, I have one in my bag."

Roger unzipped his bag and pulled a glass bottle from it that was labeled _Coca-Cola®_. He popped off the lid and handed it to his leader. Jack took a sip and cringed at the carbonation.

"How are you able to drink this stuff?" He asked while smacking his lips and sticking his tongue out periodically to try and get the taste out of his mouth.

"You don't like it?" Roger looked a little disappointed.

"Give me a minute." Jack rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth before speaking. "I don't really like the bubbles, but the flavor wasn't bad."

"Do you want to try another sip?" Roger offered.

"Sure."

Jack put the bottle to his lips and took a slightly larger sip to get more flavor. He let the syrupy water rest in his mouth for a bit before swallowing. He nodded his head a few times in approval.

"It takes a little while to get used to," he said, "but it's not bad."

"I'm glad you like it."

Jack handed the bottle back to Roger and the dark haired boy took a sip. They continued this passing game until the bottle was nearly empty, save for a few drops. The two of them felt excited afterwards and couldn't sit still.

"Should we get another one?" Jack turned to look at his friend, who shrugged.

"I'm fine with that."

The two boys skipped a little bit on their way to the nearest convenience store, laughing every now and then and squinting at the darkening clouds.

"Hey, Roger?" Jack began.

"What is it?" Roger shot his leader a quizzical look.

"Do you ever wonder what they put in this stuff?"

**History: Coca-Cola itself was first invented by John Pemberton somewhere in between 1886-1888. He was looking for success and had previously tried to invent different drugs but they all failed miserably. Instead, he decided to go for beverages. Thus, Coca-Cola was born. However, he died in 1888, so he never got to see its success.**

**Asa Griggs Candler became the new (and only) owner in 1891 and the syrup was sold as a medicine until 1898 when Congress passed a tax on all medicines, so it was sold strictly as a beverage after that.**

**This is the part of Coca-Cola's history that I focused on in this story. First, it arrived in Britain in 1900 and it used to contain cocaine, which came from an extract from the coca leaf. Hence the name, "Coca-Cola." One of its nicknames was "the new aspirin" because people believed that it could cure headaches. However, when they realized that people were getting addicted to it, they decided to switch to caffeine (because caffeine is totally less addictive).**

**In this story, I used symptoms of being addicted to cocaine. This is where Roger's strange behavior comes into play. People who abuse it might act excited and more confident as well as not having a large appetite, irregular sleep patterns, dilated pupils, runny noses, and nosebleeds. Those last couple are obviously factors if the person is snorting it, but, in this case, Roger has no idea that there's cocaine in his soda. I'm not sure if all countries have nutrition fact labels (if you have no idea what I'm talking about, feel free to skip this part) but in the United States, nutrition fact labels weren't required until 1990. The bill was signed by President George H.W. Bush. That's all of the history that I have for this subject. I hope that it helped you understand the plot a little better.**

**Since I did research on this, here are the links to most of the sites that I used, if you're interested:**

.

.

. .


	6. Virtues

**Disclaimer: **Lord of the Flies is rightfully owned by William Golding and The Berkley Publishing Group.

**A/N: This is something that I had written part of before I started writing these stories and, honestly, I never thought that I'd put it on here. It's about Simon's trek up and down the mountain and it's written in sections that are each titled after the seven Christian virtues (hence the title). I got the idea for this one when I was talking to my friend several months ago about the names of the seven deadly sins and what they mean. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy!**

_**Prudence**_

I tiptoed through the forest as cautiously as I could without stumbling. This proved to be a more difficult task than I had first imagined since two other boys had come with me on my previous trek. I did my best to avoid stepping on any insects. The creepers wrapped around my legs and I took great care to remove them. It took many stumbles and falling over logs and I think that I even tripped over my own feet a time or two.

After several minutes had passed I'd made it to my secret hiding spot. I carefully crawled into the mini-clearing covered by shrubs and bushes and sat for a while, thinking.

_Squeal!_

I jerked my head up to hear what had made the terrified noise. A sow stumbled into the larger clearing and I did my best to stay hidden, worried that I might be spotted. I had a feeling that she wasn't alone.

_**Justice**_

A rustling sounded from the undergrowth behind the sow and several savages came rushing out and surrounding her from all sides, stabbing at her with their sharpened spears. They ached for a touch of flesh, to spill blood. They seemed to feel righteous at this assault. A redhead, who I assumed was Jack, although it was difficult to tell from my position, tried to aim for her neck. He missed several times before the sow emitted a high-pitched scream which then fell silent. The savages collapsed on top of her and once they'd regained their balance, one of them exclaimed.

"Right up her ass!" he cried.

I couldn't tell whose voice it was. The others seemed to get excited over this as he removed his spear from her posterior. I felt as though I would vomit at the sheer sight of it all. Jack proceeded to unsheathe his knife and saw off her head. He spoke as he worked but I was too sick to hear anything. I could only speculate as he pulled out the sow's innards and placed her head on a sharpened stick at both ends. He placed one end within the earth and the severed head on the other.

Once they'd left all that I could do was stare at the head on a stick. I felt as though this would lead to something but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. The dark deed had been dealt.

_**Temperance**_

I stared bleakly at the grotesque head on a stick. It had flies surrounding it and had already begun to decompose. It took all of my strength not to pass out from the mere sight of it. I felt a chill in the air and shuddered. I felt it talking to me, calling me names and laughing at me, but I couldn't speak to it. My tongue had swelled up and I was having a difficult time sitting up straight as it was.

It told me that they'd do me. I'm not sure why it did in the first place, since I already knew that they never really like me to begin with. They thought I was batty and I guess that I somewhat agreed with them, even though I denied it oftentimes.

I stared at the pig's mocking face, which continued to jeer at me. I wanted to flee from that place, but something inside of me told me to stay. It held me there, as though I was shackled to the earth.

I felt some sort of strange connection to the rotting hunk of flesh sitting before me, or maybe it was the lack of sustenance in my stomach that led me to further hallucinations. The last thing that I remember before meeting darkness was one final line from the pig's head.

"Do you. See?"

_**Courage**_

I awoke well after dark, raising a hand to my face and feeling something crusty trailing down my nose. I disregarded it as I sat up and glanced back at the pig's head, which remained silent. I shakily stood up and talked aloud to the area.

"What else is there to do?"

Realizing that there wasn't anybody else there to answer me, I crawled through the creepers and staggered to the mountaintop, where I found something blowing around in the wind.

At first, it frightened me and I hid. When I saw that it wasn't advancing I decided to creep toward it, which was more like a stagger. I saw the body of a dead man with a parachute attached to his back moving about. The corpse had flies hovering around it and I felt sad for the poor man. I undid the straps binding him to the earth and let him go free. I then proceeded as fast as I could to tell the others about my discovery at the base of the mountain.

_**Faith**_

I had to tell them. They needed to know before they went crazy. I knew even before I found the dead man that there wasn't a beast. The others invented it out of fear and were easily manipulated by it. The paranoia going around wasn't enough to satisfy them unless they got the chance to take it out for themselves. Even then the possibility of their fears dissipating was slim to none. They'd always find something to be terrified of, turning them into true savages.

_**Hope**_

I staggered through the forest in a jumble of thoughts. I wasn't really sure of my footing but I knew that I had a goal to fulfill. I could vaguely remember what the pig's head had said to me, but I didn't care to dwell on it too much. I tripped over a few tree trunks and creepers here and there.

Once I could make out the light coming from the base of the mountain, I followed it to where I assumed the others were. I leaned against a tree for a moment to catch my breath before setting off again. As long as I told them about my discovery then my goal will have been fulfilled.

I only hoped that they'd listen to me.

_**Charity**_

I made it to the base of the mountain and saw the others chanting and dancing around the large fire. I hesitated before drawing in a deep breath and pushing past the creepers. I stumbled out of the forest and felt my knees buckle beneath me. It took me a minute to realize that the others had surrounded me with no escape routes present. I tried to tell them that the beast that they were so afraid of was just a dead man on a hill.

It took me a minute to register the sharp pain in my leg and the warm substance flowing out of it. The pain repeated itself continuously throughout my body and in the midst of all of the shrieking I tried to make my voice heard. My throat felt raw after a while and I could see some of the crimson that had trickled out of my mouth and onto the sand.

The ritual subsided and I was left along the shoreline, staring blankly ahead. I'd somehow managed to crawl toward the ocean during the insane dancing. I supposed that I asked for it. Maybe I'd have had a better chance of getting across to them if I'd come out during daylight. I cried as I thought about them continuing to believe in the nonexistent beast. The physical pain that I'd experienced didn't hurt as bad as those thoughts did as well as the guilt of never getting to tell them. I remained that way until my vision blurred and I couldn't see anything anymore.


End file.
